ミュージックビデオ

ミュージックビデオ

クレジット

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Grossman
Grossman
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Grossman
Grossman
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Brady Patterson
Brady Patterson
Engineer

歌詞

Alone I sit, and where I sits an empty room
I might just pick up drinking to pick up something to do
I'm saying to fill this void will need something more than liquor
Cause once it leaves my liver the pain always resumes
Welcome to my hell
I will embrace you
Cause I would never try to disassemble or erase you
I put up all these walls as boundaries but you would phase through
So now I'm in the backrooms
I didn't choose to fail or that I had to
This music business sucks it's feels like a mental vacuum
Keep it real or keep your distance with a round of applause
It's a spectacle my back to the wall
I was waiting for the pain but it isn't taking long
To find an explanation doesn't take a crystal ball
And I was fucking raised in a state of mental anguish
No one could relate to me and to top it off they'd hate my songs
What am I doing wrong, let me take a hit from this gravity bong tragedies gone
It's not a parody dawg it's my life and I fucking live it
Amongst the demons, the critics, the fans and all the crickets, acidic
Alone I sit, and where I sits an empty room
I might just pick up drinking to pick up something to do
I'm saying to fill this void will need something more than liquor
Cause once it leaves my liver the pain always resumes
Welcome to my hell
I'm back in business
It ain't about the cashflow
I rap because I've lived this
Reenacting back when I was laughed at in the class of misfits
I don't know where I fit in
Never had a grasp on any kinship
I focus on tasks when the goings get bad
My mind is my existence
Crystal vision, gift of gab, it's all intrinsic
So why am I sad?
I was waiting for the pain but it isn't taking long
To find an explanation doesn't take a crystal ball
And I was fucking raised in a state of mental anguish
No one could relate to me and to top it off they'd hate my songs
What am I doing wrong, let me take my thoughts to that of a song, that'll be hard
God damn they'll have to applaud cause I know what I invented
From my taste to my ways I'm bound to this profession
It's my obsession
Pain my only muse
I listen for it painstakingly in this room
The pain is norming it begs to be concluded
While the ecstasy that absorbs me in let's me in game consumed
So this question begs me true
Is this feeling normal or am I the chosen few where, um
The bitter mornings such a tasteless bitter view
All while the darkness is absorbing me, I would hate to be a loser
Welcome to my future
Welcome to my hell
Welcome to my hell
This isn't fun as math class
Cause the answers are ambiguous the questions laughed at
Welcome to my hell
Welcome to my hell, the present
Furthermore my mind's the NASDAQ
Fluctuating up and down just like the poor or middle class
Welcome to my hell, succumbed to dry spells
Worse than Niagra Falls if it was transported to the Sahara
The Grand Canyon has mirages, told me to travel more
I ended up in Las Vegas ready to empty my pockets more
This is me flaunting more
My downward spiral should be analyzed by scholars on why we should not be in college
Here comes the rapture towards the faintly acting lads
Who think this is as easy as some acting porn
This ain't attracting whore my life is far from glamorous
I started as a star and then I burned out like California
This life is bad I told ya
And Long Island is just a breeding grounds for company
In the corporate sense, not money
This independence runs me, scraping for little money
God forbid you have a dream I hope that you get lucky
No one wants you to succeed unless you fucking butt tease
So now my image involves the LGBTQIA+ needs
One day I will be something and I am sure of it
But reassurance loves me when I thought about being nothing
This cold hard liquor crumbles me
Not like a cookie but the breadwinners a yeast infection looking for stale 20 somethings
Not like my generation, they stay on Tik-Tok
I watch my time go bye bye
This mobile porno motherfucks me
This is a dumpster fire
My only fans are these firefighters saving me from these smoke and mirrors
God, how do I think clearer?
There's something wrong with ya, dude
Written by: Blake Harrison Grossman
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